A Temporary Arrangement

by Pamela Fudge

  The answer was there in the photos. She stood at the kitchen table staring down at the neatly cut out squares. It was there written all over her face, her love for Sam shone out even in such poor quality pictures and she was amazed that no-one else seemed to have seen it.

  She shivered, wrapping her arms around her body and, hugging herself tightly, asked herself if Sam really hated her as much as he professed to. Could he have kissed her like that, if he didn't feel anything for her? She was very much afraid that the answer was yes, and that in his line of work he had probably kissed hundreds of women who meant nothing at all to him, just to keep their loyalty and so that they would keep right on buying his CDs.

  Her life was a mess, and there was no way she could deny it. She found that she didn't really want to. It would have been far worse, she reminded herself, if she had married Andrew and then discovered, too late, that it was a mistake and he wasn’t what she wanted at all.

  She sighed heavily and then straightened her back. Best to deal with one thing at a time, just as her aunt had always taught her, and Andrew was sitting there in all his city glory just waiting to be dealt with, so she'd better get it over with.

  But Aunt Ellen, it seemed, had other ideas, and seemed determined to keep Andrew all to herself. She was chatting nineteen to the dozen when Roz went back into the sitting room and to her amazement Andrew was talking just as enthusiastically back.

  Listening to him bragging, in a very well-bred way, about all that he had achieved in his life and all that he hoped to accomplish in the future, Roz found herself feeling very far removed from the hopes and ambitions he was setting out. It all suddenly sounded so coldly clinical, as if the people around him were nothing more than pawns in a game of life that was carefully mapped out, day by day, and year by weary year. She could finally accept, without surprise, that she would have been one of those pawns.

  She couldn’t understand why it had taken her so long to see that all their careful plans had been made in completely cold blood. Love had barely come into it - scarcely even been given a mention - it had all been convenience, career moves, and a carefully laid programme - just as Sam had once so sensibly said.

  That's how their whole life together would have been. Roz could see it clearly for herself, now. A detailed plot full of projected targets leading to the desired promotions and material possessions that didn't include all the things that made life worth living, a life that had no room to spare for laughter, sheer enjoyment or for love.

  She looked at Andrew with new eyes as she accepted that the reason there had been nothing between them but the most perfunctory lovemaking had nothing to do with respect, and everything to do with sex having no real place in his scheme of things. He got his thrills from success and recognition in the world of commerce of that there was no doubt Roz’ mind and she could never have competed with that.

  Oh, probably after they were married he would have found her a weekly slot, somewhere between the other tedious but necessary things in life, like paying the bills and shopping for food. Andrew, she finally realised, knew nothing at all about being spontaneous, and that was probably what horrified him most of all about what he would see as her extraordinary behaviour.

  'That's settled then,' Aunt Ellen clapped her hands enthusiastically, breaking into Roz' revealing thoughts and making her jump into the bargain.

  'What is?' she was almost afraid to ask.

  'Andrew is staying with us until tomorrow.' Her aunt looked at her as if she were offering her a prize, 'Isn't that lovely? No point in him driving back all that way tonight, and luckily he has an overnight bag in the car.'

  Ready for any eventuality, Roz thought wryly, knowing that Andrew wouldn't be seen dead in the same clothes two days running, not even in the small town in Dorset that he professed to despise.

  'I'll just check on the evening meal,' Aunt Ellen rose with an agility that belied her years. 'You'll join us, of course, Andrew, as our very welcome guest?' she invited warmly as she left the room, and smiled at his nod of acceptance.

  'You told me you had meetings all the week,' Roz didn't hesitate to remind him accusingly, not at all sure that she wanted him to stay now that he had made the effort to come.

  'LB phoned me – this morning on a Sunday,’ Andrew was obviously eager to convey the seriousness of the situation, ‘the minute someone told him the news. He told me to take the time needed to sort things out,' he added confidently. 'He even shuffled my commitments and moved a couple of meetings. He was quite confident that I could keep my name, and that of the firm, out of the papers. After all, in our circles yours is a name that few would recognise and our personal attachment - yours and mine - thankfully, hadn’t yet become public knowledge.'

  And now nor would it, Roz accepted this truth with little more than a feeling of relief. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. It was pretty obvious that Andrew had turned up here only to make quite sure that she didn't run to the papers to set the record straight and tell them that he was the one she intended to marry, after all. It had nothing to do with him fearing that he might be losing her to another, and better, man.

  That was the moment, and Roz was very well aware of it, that any tiny particle of feeling or respect that she might have had left for Andrew, finally, and quite painlessly died. He hadn’t even asked for her side of the story.

  She didn't have to imagine what Sam would have done in similar circumstances, because she was quite sure that he would have come steaming into the picture in his battered old cowboy hat with all his guns, metaphorically, blazing. He wouldn't let the girl he loved go, she was certain of that, without putting up the most spectacular fight to keep her in his own arms at whatever the cost to his career.

  A lump of cold, hard pain settled in the region of her heart as Roz was forced to acknowledge that a love such as that would never be hers. If there had ever been the slightest chance that Sam might have come to love her, she had killed it, quite thoroughly, by her recent treatment of him not to mention her indifference over the years.

  Feeling more unhappy than she had ever been in her life before, she said flatly, 'Come with me, Andrew, and I'll show you to your room.'

  Roz hid in her room until she knew that it would be dinner time, and if she delayed any longer Aunt Ellen was not above sending Sam to come and fetch her.

  She had made an extra effort with her appearance, not out of any kind of wish to impress anyone, but because it was the best way she knew of giving herself some much needed confidence.

  She wore a bright golden-yellow knitted dress that followed the contours of her slim figure with flattering, and eye-catching, accuracy. Her make-up she knew to be flawless and the carelessly ruffled hairstyle had taken a great deal of her time to achieve.

  Everyone was sitting at the kitchen table, quite clearly waiting for her to put in an appearance before starting on the delicious roast pork that Aunt Ellen produced, without comment, as soon as she was seated.

  Roz had expected it to be an uncomfortable meal, but in the event, she should have been pleasantly surprised, as everyone was obviously making a great effort to be very civil. This actually had the unusual affect of making her feel more on edge than she had been previously.

  She tried hard not to notice that Andrew was, quite clearly, looking down his long nose at Aunt Ellen's home cooked meal of succulent meat, cooked to perfection, crisp roast potatoes, a variety of steamed vegetables, and a jug of her signature thick, dark gravy. He was not at all comfortable in the cosy atmosphere of the big homey kitchen, either, and she knew that he would probably have been more at ease sitting in isolated splendour in the guests’ dining room.

  Watching him, it made her wonder, all the more, how she had ever thought for a minute that he would fit in to her life away from London. Though, she had to admit that her great-aunt seemed to like him and her artless chatter more than made up for any silences left by the rest of them.

  Roz wondered idly if Sam had known of Andrew's arrival be
fore he dressed for dinner, because if so, he certainly hadn't made any concession with his dress. Wearing, as he was, faded but clean denim jeans, and a boldly striped blue shirt, he looked relaxed in the extreme, and very attractive.

  'Tell us all about your job, and those marvellous career prospects,' her aunt pleaded. 'It all sounds wonderful to me, and I'm sure that Sam is very interested, as he has business pursuits of his own.'

  Sam looked anything but interested to Roz, but at least he made the effort to appear so, which was more than could be said for Andrew when anyone else offered anything to the conversation. It was easy to see - belatedly - that he was totally self-obsessed and not just very confident in his own skin as she had always fondly imagined.

  Looking at the two men together, the contrast was enormous, and not only in their looks, though the one was so slight and fair, and the other so tall, broad and dark.

  Sam could probably have bought and sold Andrew, over and over, but no-one would have thought it to look at them. Money and appearance had never mattered much to Sam, she realised admiringly, and she was certain that he gave a great portion of his earnings to charity, though she could never get him to admit it.

  Look at the way, she reminded herself, that Sam drove Ellen’s beat up old estate car about town without a qualm or a thought for his image, while Andrew would be seen in nothing less than a top of the range Audi, and I bet he doesn't even own a pair of jeans, she thought inconsequentially.

  The evening dragged on, with Aunt Ellen chirping like an encouraging sparrow, and making sure that Andrew remained centre stage, even as they moved from kitchen to sitting room.

  Roz didn't know how Sam could stand it. She was having severe difficulty staying put herself, and wondered more than once why he didn't just excuse himself and make himself scarce. At least he could, she told herself bitterly, lending one ear to yet another of Andrew's tedious yarns.

  At last Aunt Ellen yawned hugely, and told the room in general and Andrew in particular that she needed her beauty sleep and would be off to her bed.

  'Well, I'll bid you goodnight, then,' Andrew smiled his best company smile, and added heavy-handedly, 'though I assure you that you are quite beautiful enough for someone of your age.

  Talk about a back-handed compliment, Roz almost snorted, and she knew that under any other circumstances she would have caught Sam's gaze and shared a sick grimace.

  Ellen had door barely closed behind her when the charming look and practiced smile was wiped from Andrew's good-looking face. He stood up and turned on the pair of them with a comical scowl that he might have fondly and mistakenly believed was forbidding.

  'Between the two of you,' he declared, having risen to his feet and drawn himself to his full height, 'you've done your best to make me into a laughing stock in the city. I just hope you are proud of yourselves.

  That he looked ridiculous was Roz’ first thought, because Sam absolutely towered over him. Her second thought was to wonder fleetingly if he had any real intention of turning this into a fight. She hoped not, because she was sure that Sam would win any confrontation with very little effort and without taking his hands from the pockets of his denim jeans.

  'You can leave Sam out of this,' she advised. 'It's me who owes you an apology for not being honest with you from the start. If I had been, none of this would have happened.'

  'No,' Sam interrupted firmly, 'It was my fault for not doing as you asked immediately, Roz, and I apologise to you unreservedly,' he turned to Andrew, 'and to you for any embarrassment I've caused you. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to put one right on my jaw. I know it's what I would feel like doing in the circumstances.'

  There was a startled silence following this unexpected statement, and unmoving, the two men looked from one to the other, as if taking stock.

  'I don't think it need come to that.' Andrew came to his senses first, hastily making sure that there would be no chance of violence, which was to his credit Roz supposed. 'I'm sure we can discuss this like rational human beings.'

  'If that's what you want,' Sam shrugged. 'Perhaps you have some suggestions as to the best way to handle this, er – Andrew - because I must confess I'm at a complete loss myself.'

  Roz looked from one to the other of them, and without waiting for Andrew to reply, she told them, 'There's only one thing we - I - can do, and that is to make a statement to say that my engagement to Sam is at an end. As we both know, Sam, it was never real anyway. I can simply say that we grew apart, as we agreed.'

  Andrew stared at her, his face flushed, as he said in a horrified tone, 'You weren't thinking of telling them that you and I...?'

  God, he was pitiful in his complete desperation to keep his own name and involvement out of the papers. Though Roz supposed that, in all fairness, she couldn't really blame him. Still, if she hadn't already come to her senses as far as he was concerned, she somehow knew that she would have been more than a little disappointed by his attitude.

  'You needn't worry,' she assured him, with a touch of sarcasm in her even tone, 'I will be sure to keep any mention of you out of my announcement.'

  She could feel Sam's curious gaze on her face, but she carefully ignored him, keeping her attention on the now almost fawning Andrew, sickeningly grateful for what he must see as her reasonable stance in a very worrying matter.

  'I think that would be wise,' he was back to being his charming best, 'and, of course, eventually, when this has all blown over, maybe...'

  The insinuation was that they might eventually be able to pick up where they had left off, and it had obviously been offered as a pawn to keep her sweet. He was undoubtedly arrogant enough to assume that she would still want to be with him. Roz didn't bother to put him right, she felt that it really wasn't worth the effort.

  'You seem to be forgetting one thing,' Sam drawled, looking from one to the other of them as if he didn't understand them at all, and had absolutely no intention of trying. 'When you tell the press that we have grown apart - how are you going to explain away that kiss?' he indicated the front page of the paper, still spread accusingly between them.’ It doesn’t exactly give that impression does it? And they are sure as hell going to take a lot of convincing that it meant nothing.'

  'I think I'll leave you two to sort this out,' Andrew - sidled - Roz decided was the word to describe his tentative steps to the door. 'I'm sure between you, you'll decide what's best,' and then he was gone.

  Sam stared at the door as it closed softly behind him, and then turning back to Roz, he said in a tone of deep disgust, 'And that's the guy you want to spend the rest of your life with is it?'

  Roz didn't bother to confirm or deny it, because she knew that there was no point. What could she say? That she had fallen out of love with Andrew days ago? That’s if she'd ever been in love with him in the first place, which she now strongly doubted. Should she tell Sam that she was actually crazy about him and then watch the horrified look that would dawn on his face?

  Ignoring the question, she told him instead, 'I shall tell the papers that it was obviously taken from an angle and looks more than it actually was – that it was simply a farewell kiss. An engaging farewell, if you like.'

  She didn't need to look at the photo again to know that the reporters weren't going to believe her for a minute, but as long as Sam did, she felt that somehow she would manage to get through this ordeal.

  'We could leave it all for a while longer,' Sam suggested, 'until all the fuss has died down again. It makes no difference to me.'

  No, she admitted silently, and that was the trouble. Aloud, she said, 'There's really no point, is there, Sam?' and with her heart breaking, slowly and painfully, as she looked into his handsome, and dearly loved face, she added quietly, 'For us it really is over.'

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  In the morning it was all still there, despite all Roz had hoped, and her dreams to the contrary. The two men in - or more accurately, out - of her life still had to be faced. And so, she reminded hersel
f, with a firmness she didn't feel, did the press.

  When she finally, and very reluctantly, plucked up the courage to creep downstairs, it was to find that Andrew had, without a by-your-leave, taken his place in the dining room for a breakfast he obviously expected to have served to him along with the handful of other guests.

  Roz was so embarrassed by his behaviour that she could hardly meet Aunt Ellen's eyes and, without a word she served him herself, slapping his food down in front of him with unnecessary, but very satisfying, force.

  'I never realised he could be so - so...' she fumbled for an explanation.

  'Snobbish, rude, ill-mannered, impertinent, impolite, boorish...' she looked up to find that Sam had taken over from her aunt, and was expertly snatching toast from the toaster with one hand while replacing the bread with the other. 'Take your pick because they all describe him very accurately. The man is without a doubt a complete idiot and the shame is that he doesn’t realise it.'

  Roz flushed hotly, and could find nothing to say in Andrew's defence. She didn't try very hard, feeling, as she did that he didn't deserve loyalty from her, when he had made no effort to give it himself.

  'He's not used to our ways, that's all,' said a mild voice.

  Trust her aunt to look for the best, even in someone like Andrew. Roz threw her a grateful glance, doing her best to ignore a derisive snort from Sam.

  'I'm not very hungry this morning,' she told the room in general, and her aunt in particular, 'so I'll make a start on the beds, shall I?'

  She was almost through the door before the reply came, 'If you like, dear.'

  She worked steadily and with the ease of familiarity, glad to be doing something to help her aunt. It was as she was dumping yet another load of sheets into the huge linen basket that a movement down the hall caught her eye. She stopped what she was doing, and stood back in the doorway of the room she was working from.

  She found herself staring in patent disbelieve as Andrew tip-toed from his room, and crept silently towards the stairs. He was so obviously intent on getting away without having to face any of them, that for a moment Roz stood frozen to the spot, amazed that anyone could be so... She shook her head as words failed her.